


these twisted roads do not lead us to each other

by amaresu



Series: No Fate [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Navel-Gazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaresu/pseuds/amaresu
Summary: Soul marks are supposed to determine your perfect partner.Steve has always thought that was bullshit.  Luckily his soulmate thinks so too.





	these twisted roads do not lead us to each other

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, more of an exploration of an idea than a fic with actual plot.

He hates her as soon as he sees her. The burn along his hip is exactly as Bucky and Peggy had described to him so long ago. He sees her casual dress and bright red hair and hates her for daring to exist. Daring to exist here and now, like the universe had planned it all from the beginning. His ballerina girl born into the world where he'd only meet her decades after he should've died. It's only the disdain in her eyes that keep him from expressing his own.

They both pretend like nothing has happened, casual conversation as he walks across the deck. Perhaps his soul mate hates him as much as he hates her. He finds the thought comforting.

As much as he hates her and as much as he can see she dislikes him, immediately and passionately, they work together. They exchange terrible jokes that no one laughs at. He takes her on her word that Barton is trustworthy. He trusts her to have his back in the fight and she trusts him despite herself. He can almost see the smooth lines of dance in her movements as she fights and it makes him reckless in the battle. He's not sure what she sees in him.

He doesn't care what she sees. 

Later, later, later, after all the fighting he sees the way she looks at Barton and understands why she dislikes him. He doesn't blame her – his reasons are similar he thinks – he still hates her though. He wonders if she's ever tried to convince Barton to ignore the purple-bronze shimmer Steve can see peaking up the back of his neck. He decides he doesn't care and focuses on his shawarma. 

Later still, once he's finally had a chance to change and clean up, he finally looks down at his left hip, at the mark crossing from front to back, a female figure wearing a tutu, appearing to leap through the air. One leg stretched out in front and the other in behind, toes pointed and what should be hand raised above her head instead turn into paint brushes. Bucky had called her his ballerina girl and the slight gold-green shimmer instead of the matte black he's used to makes him throw up his shawarma in the heat of the shower. 

````

He'd been ten when he decided that soul marks were bullshit. He didn't tell anyone then, just looked at the tic-tac-toe board of bullets and tires on Bucky's right shoulder and decided that the universe had clearly fucked up big time. Years later they'd fight over the white scars on his shoulder and the black mark on Steve's hip. 

Oddly enough Peggy had been the one to finally get Bucky to stop looking for Steve's ballerina.

````  
They don't talk for months. Months of rebuilding and moving to DC and training with SHIELD. Months of pretending his apartment isn't bugged. Months of trying to build a life when everyone he actually cares about is dead or so much older in actual lived years. He still loves Peggy, will always love Peggy, but she's lived a full life and his place isn't in it anymore. He visits, but not as often as he probably should.

Natasha shows up one day as he's walking to the grocery store. Pulls up next to him in her flashy sports car and looks at him with her eyebrow raised until he gets in. She doesn't say anything and he's willing to let her lead. He knows the faint tingle on the soul mark now that they're so close is as distasteful to her as it is to him. 

She pulls into an alley three miles away and hands him a bag of clothes, he doesn't argue, just changes behind the dumpster. He stashes his clothes behind the same bin and hopes he'll be able to pick them back up. He'd left his phone sitting on the kitchen table when he left his apartment, not yet used to taking it with him. He holds up his wallet and tosses it to her when she gestures. She goes through it quickly before tossing it back to him. 

“I didn't realize they could bug my clothes.” He says more to have something to say then anything else as she merges back into traffic.

“I don't know that they did,” she admits as she gets on the freeway. She smiles slightly, glancing at him briefly as she speeds down the road, “But this conversation isn't for taking chances.”

“They don't know then?” Technically logging soul marks was illegal. He knows of any number of things that are technically illegal though. Bugging his apartment for one. 

“Haven't yet figure out how to monitor them without freaking somebody out enough to spill the beans.” Her voice is steady, but he can see the way her hands clench the steering wheel. “They'd need someone who'd seen us both and willing to say something.”

“Well, thank God for soul mark taboos.” He says it dryly and gets a huff of a laugh out of her. They don't talk after that and he looks out the window. He focuses on watching the passing scenery, cataloging the subtle changes in the world as they drive instead of paying attention to the faint tingle on his hip with her so near. He's not sure he hates her anymore, but he certainly doesn't like her yet. He is willing to trust enlightened self interest though and allows the rhythm of the road to put him to sleep.

He dreams, briefly, of tracing the bluish-purple shimmer between Peggy's breasts. The gun laid across a book, placed perfectly on her sternum. He'd never been able to avoid it and stopped trying when she told him to just touch the bloody thing. It hadn't felt any different than the rest of her skin.

Eventually they end up at a Fred Meyer and walk inside. He grabs a cart because he still needs to go grocery shopping and it makes them look like they belong. They wander the store as he puts items into the cart. Not paying much attention to anything until Natasha grabs one of those thermos bags and starts filling it with frozen fruits and vegetables.

Quietly they murmurer to each other, still taking more precautions, letting the sounds of the freezer unit and the crinkle of the bags cover their voices. It's a short discussion, neither wants anything from the other after all. It's easy to establish how little they like being bound together. 

(“I choose who I care about, not some glorified tattoo.”

“Same.”)

She leans in close though and shoves some frozen mango slices into the bag, “I've been assigned to become friends with you and provide a present day connection.”

He pokes at the frozen mango, wondering what it tastes like, practically hearing the quotation marks around friends and says even quieter, “Fuck.”

He doesn't ask if she's supposed to seduce him to provide that present day connection. 

Together they meander through the rest of the store before paying in cash and leaving. Standing in the parking lot he can't help but tip his head back to look at the night sky, stars hidden by the light pollution, and feels the loss of Bucky like he hasn't since he first woke up in the too bright future. Natasha looks at him quietly and he blinks back tears before he starts pushing the cart towards her car.

“Shove over Rogers,” She says before grabbing the cart and running down the lane. He watches as she jumps up and rides the cart down the lot and can't stop the laugh that comes out of him.

He doesn't hate her and he doesn't like her, but maybe they can be fake friends.

````

Peggy was the first person he ever met to share his thoughts on soul marks. She'd come to him the night before the procedure, close enough to when Erksine finally leaves that she had to have been waiting. He's the only one left in the dormitory, but it still feels like they're in public when she kisses him. 

She pulls her shirt over her head and states in the straight forward way of hers, “Whatever happens tomorrow I want this tonight.”

He kisses her, but can't keep from looking at her soul mark. He doesn't say anything, couldn't find his voice if the world depended on it, but she sees him looking and says, “Stupid fucking thing,” as she pulls his shirt over his head. 

He grins at her and falls a bit more in love.

````

Pepper makes him take her out to lunch and something arty whenever she's in DC. He chooses the food and she picks the art. It works for them and he finds himself looking forward to her visits.

“Tony has an amazing collection and absolutely no interest whatsoever,” is what she tells him the first time. Exasperation was clear in her voice and he couldn't help but laugh and agree to her proposal. It's nice to have someone to look at art with and Pepper has a talent for finding the small independent exhibits. Things he would never see or hear about just by himself. It's a whole new century and the art is amazing.

He likes Pepper, more than he likes Tony. A fact he shares with her over food truck paninis and fries in the park. She throws back her head and laughs loud and carefree, “Most people do.”

They walk to the gallery in the warm DC spring. He's not paying a ton of attention to Pepper, enjoying the afternoon air, so it's something of a surprise to to tune back in as she says something about soul marks. “I'm sorry, can you repeat that?”

“You weren't listening to me,” She smiles as she chides him, no sting in her words. “The show is a display of soul marks. A bit taboo, but classier than paintings of Jesus in blood.”

He laughs like he's supposed to and doesn't look at the black office supply dragon wrapped around her left wrist. She covers it in bracelets, but he knows it's something of a scandal that her and Tony aren't soul mates. He doesn't say anything though, just follows her into the gallery.

He didn't have time to develop expectation, but he's still vaguely disappointed. The pictures are well done, the composition and color beautiful, but it's all the same. Happy couples showing off their marks. The taboo is in the showing. Not even the same sex couples are seen as transgressive anymore. It's, simply put, boring.

He tries to hide his lack of interest, Pepper had wanted to go and he'll put in the effort for her. The effort he puts into pretending to enjoy it is probably why it takes him so long to see how sad Pepper looks and the way she's rubbing her wrist without seeming to realize. He taps her shoulder and nods towards the door. She smiles and follows him out just as the gallery owner appears to recognize Pepper, almost chasing them onto the street. 

He buys them frozen yogurt and leads her to a nearby bench by a fountain. Pepper still looks sad and he finds himself talking without thinking, “I don't understand the obsession with soul marks these days.”

Pepper jumps and looks at him in astonishment, a garbled “What?” is asked around the spoon in her mouth.

“When I was growing up soul marks were a concern for people with money.” It's not entirely true, but true enough. Girls could wait longer to marry in hopes of finding their match and it was one of the only church approved reasons for divorce. True enough for the conversation at hand. “We were too poor and too sick to spend our lives searching for our mates. If you found them then great, but plenty of people never did.”

“I-” She clears her throat and starts again, looking down at her wrist, “I didn't know that. Tony keeps waiting for me to leave him.”

He hesitates to say anything. Everyone who's read a tabloid while waiting in line at the grocery store knows that Tony's soul mate died when he was a kid, unmet and unknown. He pauses though, not sure which direction to take things in, before he starts talking again. Peggy bright on his mind. “Peggy met her soul mate the day before she shipped out to America for Project Rebirth.”

“That's not in any of the books.” Pepper is staring at him, “Most historians seem to think you were her soul mate.”

He can't stop the laugh that escapes him and he gets up to walk, throwing away his cup as Pepper catches up to him. “No, he was a professor or something at Cambridge.”

He walks a few steps before realizing Pepper was still standing at the garbage can. He looks at her until she shakes herself and catches up to him. They link arms and start walking again, “The met in a pub, waiting for drinks at the bar. She said it was so thrilling she didn't realize for an hour that they'd only been talking about his life and how she'd fit into it.”

Pepper giggles, “Everything I've heard about Peggy Carter says that couldn't have ended well.”

“She legged it out the bathroom window and never looked back,” Steve shares a grin with Pepper and they both imagine it. “She sent him a letter every Christmas, but I don't think he ever replied.”

They rest of the walk is quiet, except for the occasional chuckle. Pepper seems lighter when they part ways though and Steve's glad he shared that particular story.

````  
“You climbed out the window?” Steve's heard the story before, but watching Bucky hear it for the first time is actually more hilarious. He's walking on the other side of Peggy, they each have one of her arms and Steve can't help but wonder how pissed Peggy would be if they just lifted her up. Maybe he'll try to convince Bucky to do it after the story.

Peggy looks up at Bucky's astonished gaze and nods vehemently, “An hour of talking and he never even asked what I did for a living. Just assumed I'd move in with him and set up shop.”

Bucky throws back his head and laughs. Steve hasn't heard him laugh like that since Brooklyn and he can't stop a grin from covering his own face. The night is quiet and dark still, the all clear sirens had sounded when it was already late and it had taken them even longer to leave the little shelter they'd holed up in.

Looking at the two of them he has never wanted anything as much as he wants them. 

Bucky stops laughing and returns Steve's grin as if to ask if he can believe what Peggy is telling them. He looks down at her smiling at both of them, “Tell him about your Christmas cards.”

He can't possibly imagine loving anyone more than he loves the two of them.

````  
Despite their best intentions they do develop a friendship. Natasha tries to set him up on dates. Steve makes her drink the ridiculous smoothies he makes with the frozen fruit she continues to insist he buy. They meet up with Clint when he's in town to watch Dog Cops.

Every once in awhile they drive out to the middle of nowhere and let the soul mark tingle relax their muscles and release dopamine into their brains. Soul marks – the safe high. 

They're on the roof of some abandoned warehouse in Baltimore, sipping cokes and smoking cigarettes. Natasha had looked at him like he was crazy when he'd pulled them out, but the sense memory to summers from his childhood is comforting. He did this with Bucky when they were kids, asthma cigarettes instead of tobacco, but close enough.

“It's bullshit,” Natasha says from where she's laying next to him. “There is no way that's a cat. It's a tiger lily.”

Steve looks at the cloud critically and takes a drag from the Marlboro in his hand before passing it to over to her, “Now that the wind has shifted.”

She coughs briefly and then throws the cigarette away from them, “That is awful.”

“Well, yeah,” he doesn't argue because she's right. “Apparently you can't buy asthma cigarettes at the pharmacy anymore though. Closest thing I could get for the aesthetic I was going for.”

He can hear her turn over to look at him, “Those can't be real.”

“Look it up.” He can hear her pulling out her phone and smiles. She'd caught onto his game of telling Clint outrageous, and often false, things from the 30s and seeing what he'll believe relatively quickly. 

She sighs in defeat and lays back down, “Sometimes I get this intense craving for solyanka. I don't even like solyanka.”

He still doesn't trust her, but he's grown to like her. Natasha understands being home sick for something you don't even want.

````

It's hot and Steve really doesn't want to go out. He will because it'll make Bucky happy, but he's not looking forward to it. “Why the double date though? If you want to go dancing we could just go to the hall.”

Bucky looks at him, exasperation clear on his face, washing the last of the soap off his face from his shave. He looks good standing in his undershirt, suspenders hanging down, and Steve double checks that the windows are covered before walking over to him. Whatever he was planning to say in response dies on his lips as Steve pushes into his space and leans in for a kiss. 

They make out lazily for several minutes before Bucky pushes him back, “We're going to be late.”

Steve grins, unrepentant, and works at opening Bucky's pants before sinking to his knees, “I'll just have to be quick then.”

They are going to be late because Bucky insisted on taking care of Steve in turn and instead of getting ready they're laying on the floor. Bucky's head is resting on his stomach and Steve would happily stay there all night instead of going out. He groans in disappointment as Bucky makes to stand up only to have Bucky laugh at him. “Come on Stevie, can't find your ballerina girl if you never go and meet any girls.”

He doesn't have to look to know that Bucky is staring at the soul mark on his hip. They've had this argument before and Steve doesn't feel up for it again. Bucky won't believe him that he doesn't care about finding his ballerina girl. 

In the end they're only a few minutes late. Steve pretends not to see the disappointment in his date's eyes and settles in for another night of being the spare on a double date. For a moment he imagines a future where Bucky only took girls out when he actually wanted to just dance. A future where they lived in an area where they could be life long bachelors as long as they didn't flaunt themselves. 

Instead he has Bucky looking at him expectantly before leading the way to the dance hall.

````

Clint doesn't figure it out. Steve doesn't want to think badly of Natasha's best friend, but he's pretty sure Bucky would've figured it out already. Hell, Peggy had taken one look at Natasha the one time she'd come to meet her and given Steve the most knowing look. Natasha and Peggy got on like a house on fire and Steve can't help but think that the universe messed up by not letting the two of them be contemporaries.

Clint though. Clint walks in on Natasha teaching Steve to dance in the SHIELD gym and just joins in on the fun. Clint finds the pack of asthma cigarettes Natasha bought on a late night vodka fueled internet shopping whim and insists on smoking one with Steve. Clint casually starts to spread himself across both their lives when he's in DC and never once thinks that there's anything odd about their relationship.

Natasha laughs while teaching him how to make french toast, “Clint likes you and said, I quote, 'Cap's a nice guy and if you're hanging out with him just because Fury said to, don't.'”

Another day while she's sitting on her balcony as he sketches her and they sip on bitter tea from Russia, “Clint can't imagine that anyone wouldn't be as happy as he is.”

He doesn't need the aborted hand gesture to her hip to know what she's talking about. He sighs and his heart hurts for her. He wants to get up and hug her, but instead he just sips more of the awful tea, “Sometimes it pisses me off that I actually care about you Romanov.”

“Back at you Rogers,”


End file.
